The Nutcracker
by with-beauty
Summary: Clara receives a nutcracker doll from her godfather at the yearly Christmas party. Little does she know the adventures it will take her on.
1. Overture

The Stahlbaum household had been preparing for their annual Christmas party for weeks. Decorations had been hung from every wall, candles positioned on every windowsill and tabletop, trees placed in every corner. Each tree was topped with it's own unique angel. Now, on the day of the party, the entire house was filled with the smells of cooking food from the kitchen. Frau Stahlbaum had ensured that the night's dinner would be extravagantly sumptuous, with at least ten different meats, fruits imported from all over the world, and every type of candy and cake imaginable.

An hour before the guests were expected to begin arriving, Clara sat alone at the dressing table in her room. She was staring listlessly into her mirror when a sharp rap came at the door. Starting at the sudden noise, she hurriedly flattened her hair with her hands in an attempt to make herself more presentable. She was meant to be getting ready for the party.

"Come in," she called.

She could see the disappointment and dismay in her mother's face as soon as she stepped through the door.

"Clara, darling, why are you not ready yet? Haven't I told you how important it is for you to make every effort to look attractive tonight?"

Clara struggled not to sigh. Her mother said it was unbecoming of a lady. Her mother said a lot of things she did were unbecoming of a lady.

"Yes, Mama, I heard you the first hundred times you told me. It's practically the only thing you've said to me since the beginning of December!"

Frau Stahlbaum looked at her sharply. "Then I needn't remind you that your father and I have invited several suitable bachelors tonight. With any luck, you will catch at least one of their eyes and you will finally be married. To think, my daughter is 23 years old and still doesn't have a husband!" Clara had heard this statement far too often in the last weeks as well.

"Yes, Mama," she said simply.

Frau Stahlbaum clapped her hands loudly and two maids hurried into the room. "Let's get her ready, shall we?"

The maids nodded briskly and all three women set to work. For the next half hour they applied her makeup, set her hair with hot rollers plucked from the fire, and draped her with glittering jewelry. When the last puff of powder had settled, everyone looked intently into the mirror.

"Oh, my dear, you look simply beautiful!" Frau Stahlbaum exclaimed, a hand to her mouth. The maids smiled and nodded in assent. All Clara could do was stare. Her cheeks looked pink and full of warmth, her lips somehow fuller, and her hair curled perfectly down her back.

The moment of stunned silence was broken as Frau Stahlbaum looked at the clock.

"My goodness, we need to get you into your dress! The guests will be here any minute!" She directed the two maids to help Clara into the gown and hurried off to make sure everything was prepared for the party.

When they had secured all the buttons, hooks, and ribbons into place, there was barely five minutes left before the party was set to begin. The maids rushed off to finish their jobs, leaving Clara to make her way downstairs to join the rest of the family.


	2. Scene (Christmas Party)

She had just reached the last step when the doorbell rang. She hurried to the parlor where her parents and her 16-year-old brother, Fritz, had lined up to receive guests. As she stepped in line next to him, Fritz looked at her with mock suspicion.

"My sister is definitely not that pretty," he muttered.

Without looking, Clara deftly stomped on his toe. He hissed in pain, but was prevented from going any further as the first of the guests were shown into the room.

The next few hours were a blur of small talk and niceties as Clara greeted guests, dined with them, and made her way around the dance floor. Frau Stahlbaum made certain she was introduced to the young bachelors that had been invited and danced with each one. Even though they were all very handsome and paid her endless compliments, Clara did not find any of them particularly intriguing. Rather, they seemed to her the same man stuffed into many different bodies. They all had the same personality, said the same things, and even seemed to have the same interests. Clara knew she wouldn't be able to marry any of them, even if they asked.

Finally, Herr Stahlbaum made his way to the great fireplace in the front of the hall and clapped his hands together to get his guest's attention.

"Ladies and gentleman!" he called. "The moment I'm sure many of you have eagerly awaited is now here. Please, husbands and wives, join me for the cup dance!"

Couples spilled onto the dance floor as the children gathered around the edges to look on. It was a tradition at the Stahlbaum's Christmas parties that the married couples would have one dance to themselves, where they toasted their joy and harmony together. Each couple brought a goblet of wine to the floor, and cups were passed from hand to hand as feet traced the steps of the dance. When the music stopped, everyone drained their glasses and let out a cheer. The lookers-on clapped enthusiastically, hoping that one day they would be able to join the dancing couples.

After the dance had finished, Herr Stahlbaum called everyone to attention once more. Another tradition was about to begin.

"Bring in the gifts!" he shouted.

The children all squealed with delight and ran to gather around the fireplace. Each year, a small gift was given to each and every girl and boy that attended the party. It was almost always inexpensive little dolls for the girls and wooden tops for the boys, but the children always treasured them.

Two servants carried out a large box topped with an elaborate bow and set it next to Herr Stahlbaum. With a great flourish, he removed the lid and set it next to him on the floor. Instructing the children to form a line, he began to dole out both the gifts and hugs and kisses. Each girl received a soft doll and a kiss on the cheek, and each boy a little top and swift hug. The children loved his affection almost as much as the toys they were presented.

Just as Herr Stahlbaum was handing the last top to the last boy in line, the massive doors of the hall burst open. The musicians faltered, letting silence settle over the crowd of guests. A figure shrouded in black appeared in the doorway. He wore a long black cloak with a high collar that shaded the lower half of his face, while a hat hid the rest. Many of the children ran to hide behind their mothers' skirts as Herr Stahlbaum strode up to the shadowy man.

When he reached him, a broad smile broke across his face.

"Drosselmeyer, my old friend!" The two men hugged and Drosselmeyer removed his hat to reveal a lined but attractive face. He too was smiling.

"I'm so sorry I'm late," he said, raising his voice so that everyone could hear, "I just had to put the finishing touches on my little surprise I had for the children."

Curiosity getting the better of them, the children began to poke their heads out from their hiding places. Mothers smiled and quietly urged them to gather around the fireplace again. They knew of Drosselmeyer's renown as a brilliant magician and inventor, and knew that he would have something very special in store.

Once the last girls and boys had been coaxed back out by the fire, Drosselmeyer motioned to his servants still waiting by the doors. They came in, carrying four huge boxes between them, each one bigger than the one that Herr Stahlbaum had distributed toys from. Standing on one end, they could have easily fit a grown man inside. As the servants set them down, Drosselmeyer turned to the children with a mischievous smile on his face.

"I've been working on these for quite some time, now," he said. "They are quite possibly some of my best work to date, if I do say so myself."

He motioned to his servants again, and they took the front off each box. The children gasped in surprise. Each box contained a life-size doll, two male and two female, in decorative military-looking costumes with large cranks on their backs. The servants gently placed them on the hardwood floor in front of the fireplace and arranged their limbs so that each had their hands on their hips.

"What do you say we see what they can do?" Drosselmeyer asked the children. They all shouted their assent and stood back as the servants turned the cranks to wind them up. Drosselmeyer turned to the musicians. "A quadrille please!" he shouted.

As soon as the musicians began to play, the servants let go of the cranks. To the children's delight, the dolls immediately sprang to life, saluting and curtsying to one another. Then, they began to dance. The male dolls paired off with the females, and they started a very simple quadrille. Everyone was astonished by the precise placement of their hands and their flawless footwork. People began to clap along gleefully to the music as the dolls danced. As the song came to an end, they saluted and curtsied again before jerking to a halt with their hands once more on their hips.

The applause was thunderous as the children whooped and shouted for more. Drosselmeyer took a modest bow and smiled into the young faces gathered around him.

"I'm afraid they won't be dancing again tonight," he said ruefully, "but you may go look at them if you'd like."

The children quickly gathered around the figures, reaching up to stroke their clothing and trying to get a good look at their faces. Drosselmeyer turned and met Clara's gaze through the crowds. He smiled and beckoned her over, a silver-wrapped box appearing in his hands. He motioned to Fritz as well, though Clara couldn't see a second gift anywhere.

"Ah, here's my favorite god-daughter," Drosselmeyer said as Clara approached. She smiled and gave him a kiss on each cheek.

"Are you trying to say that there are other god-daughters in the picture?" she teased.

He shook his head with mock solemnity. "There is no one else but you, my dear. Now let me give you your present."

"Oh, if you insist," she said, accepting the silver box from him.

"What about me?" Fritz interrupted as he arrived.

With a great flourish of his cape, Drosselmeyer produced a shining golden trumpet. He handed it to Fritz with a wink and sent him back towards the group of friends he had been parted from. Then he turned back to Clara, gesturing towards the box.

"Go ahead, my dear. Open it."

Clara gently lifted off the lid and removed the layer of tissue paper that lay on top of her gift. Nestled in the box was a beautifully crafted nutcracker. It had been carved into the shape of a man with a long white beard painted down the mandible. He wore a smart red military coat and hat and held a tiny sword in his wooden hand. Clara stared in wonder at his workmanship.

"Do you like it?" Drosselmeyer's voice broke her reverie.

"He's beautiful," she breathed. She took him out of the box and cradled him against her chest. "Did you make him?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Whoever did must have been a master craftsman."

Drosselmeyer smiled faintly. "Yes. They must have. Please excuse me, my dear, I fear your dreadful father is calling me."

As her godfather walked away, Clara examined the detail that had been put into the wonderful nutcracker. Despite having a handle, he was very lifelike. His eyes were especially fascinating. Rather than the small black beads that Clara normally saw on nutcrackers, this one had incredibly detailed blue eyes that had been painted on his face. If she looked close enough, it was almost like she could see a hint of life in them.

Suddenly, a loud trumpet blast sounded in her ear. As she gave a startled cry, her hands involuntarily let go of her new present. She could hear a crack as her nutcracker hit the ground and watched helplessly as his handle, with his lower jaw and beard attached, clattered away. She turned to see her brother holding his trumpet and looking at the broken nutcracker sheepishly.

"How could you?" she cried angrily. "You've broken him!"

"I didn't mean to." Fitz fiddled guiltily with the keys on his trumpet.

"Just go!" she shouted, not caring that the people around her were turning to stare. She knelt and scooped up the pieces of her nutcracker, cradling them gently. Loosening a ribbon from her dress, she used it to tie the handle back in place before looking around desperately for her godfather. She soon spotted him standing next to one of the men her mother had hoped would be her suitors.

Dashing to Drosselmeyer's side, she held up the nutcracker for him to look at.

"Please, please, can you fix him?" she begged, ignoring the other man.

Drosselmeyer looked quite distraught to see the nutcracker in pieces.

"What happened, my dear?"

Tears sprang to Clara's eyes. "Fitz startled me and I – I dropped him."

Drosselmeyer examined the nutcracker carefully. "This is something I cannot fix without my tools. I'll have to come back tomorrow." He patted Clara's hand sadly and nodded to the bachelor before striding off into the crowd, still looking upset.

The young man seemed thoroughly confused with the exchange that had just taken place.

"Don't worry, Fräulein Stahlbaum," he said, trying to be comforting, "I'm sure it will work out just fine."

Clara simply gave him a tight nod. She knew how foolish she appeared to be, but the nutcracker had somehow captured her heart. His cracked jaw seemed to her like an injury to a real person. With a final curtsy to the young bachelor, she went to join her parents at the door. Guests were beginning to leave, and she was expected to be there to say goodbye.


	3. The Spell

Finally, when the last family had trickled out the door, Herr Stahlbaum allowed himself a massive yawn.

"Let's all get to bed, shall we?" he said, giving his arm to his wife. Fritz trudged after them, but Clara stayed in the great hall for moment longer. She had kept the broken nutcracker in her arms as she said farewell to the guests, but now she had to put him somewhere for safekeeping. She settled him on one of the large chairs that had been dragged up next to the fireplace, praying that the servants would have enough sense to leave him there. Then she too turned for her rooms.

The same two maids who had helped Clara get ready came to undress her and unpin her hair, but she refused to let them take off her makeup. Despite their protests that it would smudge during the night, she wanted to look beautiful for just a little while longer. Besides, she knew she wouldn't be able to fall asleep for quite some time. She was still terribly worried about her nutcracker.

As she sat in her bed, she couldn't help fretting. What if the cleaning staff had moved him? They certainly wouldn't know that he had any sentimental value. They could have even thrown him away when they saw he was broken!

Clara dashed from her room, terrified that her troubled musings were in fact true. As she ran through the dark great hall, her slippered feet skidded to halt in front the fireplace. The chair was empty. Sinking into the now-vacant seat, she began to cry. The nutcracker had made his way into her heart, and she had let him slip through her fingers. It was her fault for leaving him here, out in the open.

Suddenly, the grandfather clock began to chime. Startled, Clara looked up. She was astonished to see her godfather sitting cross-legged on top, his face once again hidden in the shadows cast by his hat and cape. Before she could say anything, though, a stream of mice began to pour out from beneath the clock. She screamed as they circled her chair, scrabbling at the legs in an attempt to climb them. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Drosselmeyer stand up from his precarious perch. He pointed first at the dolls he had brought to the party, which still stood in the corner, then at Clara, then turned on the spot and disappeared with a flap of his cloak.

As soon as he was gone, Clara felt a shift in the room. Everything around her began to grow, from the trees with their decorative angels nestled in every corner, to the mice beneath her feet, to the very chair she was sitting in. The only things that remained the same were Drosselmeyer's dolls.

Then she realized. The room wasn't growing; she and the dolls were shrinking! Very soon, they were about the same size as the mice that were still trying to climb her chair. She peered over the edge that now seemed very far from the floor. To her astonishment, the dolls were now running over to her. They held their swords aloft as they charged the mice, yelling as each one sank them into the flesh of the nearest vermin. All at once the mice turned from their efforts to climb the chair and began to attack the dolls. Again and again the dolls slashed and stabbed, but they could not hold the mice back.

"We need reinforcements!" one of them yelled.

"He should be here any minute!" another shouted back.

Clara watched helplessly as more and more mice streamed out from beneath the clock to take the place of the ones the dolls had killed. They clearly outnumbered the dolls, but the four figures fought expertly, taking on multiple opponents at the same time. Still, Clara could tell that they were tiring.

An angry cry suddenly exploded from beneath the clock and Clara stared, amazed, as her very own nutcracker ran out from under it, leading a troop of toy soldiers. She couldn't believe her eyes. Her nutcracker wasn't gone; he had come to life! And he was miraculously whole once again. Clara couldn't see any sign that he had even been broken in the first place. The ribbon she had used to tie him back together was fastened around the hilt of his glittering sword. She watched the blade whistle through the air, cutting a path through the mice to join the dolls fighting on the other side. Everywhere she looked, Clara saw toy soldiers engaging mice in battle, swords clashing against teeth and claws. The fighting went on for minutes without end and filled the air with screams and yells. Clara wondered that no one in the house came running at the terrible noise.

From all the figures fighting around her, she found that she was transfixed on her nutcracker. His face remained woodenly impassive no matter how many opponents he took on, but his swordsmanship was spectacular to watch. He twirled his sword delicately through the air, creating dazzling arcs, before bringing it down mercilessly on each mouse that stepped before him. The ground around him was littered with bodies that the other mice dared not drag away.

Clara was so absorbed in watching the nutcracker fight that she did not notice the silence that was beginning to fall over the other soldiers. Soon, though, a figure striding out from beneath the clock into the middle of the battle caught her attention. She looked on in horror as a huge, grotesque mouse with seven heads pushed aside both toys and other mice alike. He wore seven tiny crowns on each of his heads and a royal purple cape that flowed off his shoulders. In his hands he held the biggest sword Clara had ever seen.

The Mouse King pushed his way towards Clara's unsuspecting nutcracker, who had his back turned as he continued to fight the swarm of mice around him. Clara could tell that the Mouse King would not hesitate to kill him while his attention was occupied. Desperate, she wrenched off her slipper and flung it at the King's hunched back.

"Nutcracker!" she screamed as she watched the slipper tumble through the air, finding its mark squarely in the middle of the grotesque mouse's back. Both he and the nutcracker turned towards her, the nutcracker's eyes finding the Mouse King immediately. As the monstrous creature began to turn back around, the nutcracker charged him. He was barely able to lift his sword in time to deflect the nutcracker's blow. They immediately began to fight; exchanging thrust after thrust and blow after blow. There was none of the nutcracker's beautiful sword-work here, only crushing, malicious, two-handed strokes. It was evident that the nutcracker and the Mouse King knew each other and hated each other. They went after one another mercilessly, never pausing to catch their breath or rest their arms.

It seemed that the fight would go on forever when the Mouse King managed to slip under the nutcracker's defenses and slice open his wooden side. Clara couldn't see any blood and his face didn't change, but his mouth opened in a cry of pain. She leaned out as far over the edge of the chair as she dared, as the mice soldiers cheered for their king.

The nutcracker staggered back from the Mouse King, whose seven mouths spread into identical gruesome smiles. He raised his sword far above his head to deliver the killing blow, and in that second the nutcracker flashed forward to plunge his own sword deep into the creature's chest. The Mouse King froze, all fourteen eyes fixed on the sword emerging from his heart. Then, agonizingly slowly, he fell over backwards, his crowns scattering across the floor.

Everyone stood in stunned silence for a moment, staring at the dead king as his blood started to pool on the floor. Then, suddenly, the nutcracker burst into a blinding white light. Clara nearly fell off the chair as she struggled to see what was happening. All of the soldiers gathered around the nutcracker turned away, shielding their eyes from the glaring light. Finally, as it began to fade, a murmur of astonishment rippled through the troops.

For, standing in the same exact spot where the nutcracker had stood only moments before, there was now an incredibly handsome young man. He wore the same red military coat and hat as the nutcracker had; yet he was unmistakably human. The young man stared in shock at his own body, and then lifted his hands to touch his now clean-shaven face. As he felt his own human features, a look of indescribable joy appeared on his face. It was the first emotion Clara had seen her nutcracker portray, and it was achingly beautiful. For there was no doubt that this man and the nutcracker were one and the same.

The mice, quickly recovering from their shock, began to retreat back under the grandfather clock, dragging their dead and wounded with them. The toy soldiers let them go, hardly giving them a second glance. Everyone was transfixed on the man who had only seconds before been a wooden nutcracker. He turned and met Clara's eyes and quickly strode towards her. The crowd parted easily for him, and when he reached her chair, he held out his arms for her.

"Jump, Clara," he said. "I will catch you."

Clara had never obeyed anyone as easily as she did him. Within seconds, she had landed in his arms. He let out a small grunt of pain but held on to her tightly.

"Nutcracker!" she exclaimed. "I'm sorry, have I hurt you? Was I too heavy?"

He laughed lightly and set her on her feet. "No, dearest Clara. You could never hurt me." He touched his side where the Mouse King had cut him and came away with blood on his hand. "That monster seems to have done the trick, though."

Clara quickly ducked her head under his arm on his uninjured side.

"Lean on me, Nutcracker. Do you have a – a toy doctor or something of the sort?"

Nutcracker laughed again, but quickly stopped, holding a hand to his side.

"I'm afraid a toy doctor wouldn't be much help to a man," he said. "No, we must go back under the clock to the Land of Sweets."

Clara stared at him incredulously. "Come again?"

He tried his hardest not to laugh once again. "The Land of Sweets, my darling. It's where my toy troops came from."

She managed a nod, trying to absorb the fact that there was another land hidden under the grandfather clock in her great hall.

Nutcracker smiled widely, seeming to revel in the fact that he really could do so now. "If you could just help me over to retrieve my sword," he asked. "It still has your ribbon."

Clara moved gingerly with Nutcracker to the Mouse King's dead body. It lay where it had fallen, abandoned by his mousey subjects. Before Nutcracker could reach for it, Clara swiftly drew the sword from the King's corpse and handed it to him.

"I don't want you to strain yourself," she said. Nutcracker merely nodded and took the sword from her grip. He was beginning to look pale and drawn. Clara knew he must have been losing blood quickly. Retrieving the slipper that lay close to the dead mouse, she turned Nutcracker in the direction of the grandfather clock. She tried to move them along swiftly without causing her beloved Nutcracker too much harm, but she could see that each step pained him. On the verge of tears, she finally stepped underneath the clock. Ahead of them was a perfect arch carved into the wall.

"Through there?" she whispered, looking up at Nutcracker's pale face. He nodded. Leaning heavily on her, he urged them the last few steps into the perfect darkness of the doorway.


	4. Waltz of the Snowflakes

For a moment, Clara lost her bearings in the blackness. It was only when she caught sight of a tiny source of light ahead of her that she realized she was in a tunnel leading to the world Nutcracker spoke of. Quickly, she began to move them forward again. Nutcracker was loosing far too much blood. She could feel it soaking through his coat onto the hand she had wrapped around his back. The end of the tunnel seemed impossibly far away. They would never make it in time.

"Please!" Clara called out in desperation. "Please, someone help us!"

As soon as the words had left her mouth, she felt a tug in her gut. She was being pulled forward, and the tunnel's end was rushing toward them, and she couldn't see, the light was too bright, when all of a sudden she tumbled out into a snowy clearing. She landed face-first in the snow and heard a thump as Nutcracker landed next to her. As she rolled over, she came face to face with a tiny, pale being.

She looked like a fully-grown woman, yet she was only about two feet tall. Her skin was only a couple shades darker than the snow around them, and her hair was pure white. All she wore was a short, paper-thin dress, despite the cold.

"Hello," she said, her voice high and sweet.

Clara could only stare for a moment. "I'm sorry, this is terribly rude, but what are you?"

The tiny woman looked startled that she would have to ask. "Why, I'm a snow fairy, of course."

"Please, Miss Snow Fairy, can you help my friend? He's been injured."

They both turned toward Nutcracker, who lay face-up in the snow, unconscious. The fairy gasped.

"It can't be!" She looked at Clara, her eyes wide. "Is that the Nutcracker?"

"Yes. Please help him, he was injured in his fight with the Mouse King!"

Still the fairy did not move. "The Mouse King is dead then?"

"Yes! Yes, what does it matter? Can't you see he's dying! Help him!" Clara shouted, moving to cradle her Nutcracker's head in her lap. This seemed to startle the fairy back to the present. She quickly began to gather snow into her hands.

"Girls!" she called in the direction of the woods on the outskirts of the clearing. "Girls, come out here! The Nutcracker needs our help!"

A dozen more snow fairies stepped out into the clearing, each one identical to the first. They glided delicately over to Nutcracker's side, gathering their own handfuls of snow.

"Could you please take his coat off for us?" one of them said. Clara couldn't tell them apart any more. She undid the buttons of his coat as quickly as she could with her shaking hands and threw it open. As the gash in his side was revealed, she gasped. It looked deeper than she had even imagined, completely soaking the brilliant white shirt he wore in blood. She gently peeled the shirt away from the wound so the fairies could set to work.

They all gathered around his injured side and, as one, softly blew their handfuls of snow into Nutcracker's wound. It began to sparkle, and as Clara watched, the skin slowly knitted itself back together. Soon, there was no trace that he had been injured at all. The color quickly returned to his cheeks as he opened his eyes. They immediately met Clara's own.

With a cry of joy, she bent down to cover her Nutcracker's face with kisses. He laughed, painlessly, and reached up to cradle her upside down face in his hands.

"Thank you, my love, thank you," he said. He turned his head to the snow fairies. "My gratitude to you as well, ladies. You have saved me."

They giggled amongst themselves, hiding their mouths behind their hands. Clara helped Nutcracker sit up slowly and knelt in the snow beside him. She was beginning to feel the chill beneath her thin nightgown.

"My love, you're shivering!" Nutcracker said, alarmed. He turned again to the knot of fairies that still stood at his side. "My dear ladies, would you mind making something to keep her warm?"

The fairies gathered another handful of snow, but this time blew it into the air, where it turned into a fine fur cape. As they fastened it around Clara's throat, she felt immediately warmer. She smiled gratefully as they created a second cape for Nutcracker and mended his shirt and coat. When they had finished, he knelt and kissed each of their hands.

"Thank you, dear ladies. I am forever in your debt," he said solemnly.

"Nonsense!" said one.

"Anything for the Nutcracker!" called another. This set them off in another round of giggles as they skipped gracefully back into the woods. Soon, Clara and Nutcracker were left alone, except for the snow that gently fell from the sky. Clara reached up to touch Nutcracker's cheek, now rosy from the cold.

"I was so worried," she said. "I just got you back, I couldn't lose you again."

He drew her into his arms and guided her head onto his chest. "I knew that you would find a way to heal me, Clara."

She realized that she didn't know his real name. "What should I call you?" she asked, looking up into his face.

"Nutcracker suits me just fine," he smiled. "It's the only name I've had for quite some time now."

Clara nodded and laid her head back on his chest, closing her eyes. "What do we do now?"

"Now? Now, I think we've been summoned to a party." Clara looked up at him quizzically. "Look," he said, gently turning her around in his arms.

Drifting down from the sky were at least a dozen angels. Clara gasped. They looked exactly like the ones that topped each tree in her home. But now, they were they same size as her, and as they landed all around her in the clearing, she found them strangely imposing.

As though sensing her thoughts, one spoke. "Be not afraid, child," she said. "The Sugar Plum Fairy has called upon us to ensure your safety as you travel to the castle." As she spoke, a beautiful gilded sled began to materialize in the middle of the clearing in front of her.

"Thank you, my lady," Nutcracker said. "I'm sure Clara feels much safer having a host she knows and trusts to accompany us."

Clara stepped out of his arms, nodding as she looked around at the angels assembled in the clearing. "It means a great deal to me."

The angels smiled tenderly and helped her and Nutcracker up into the sled.

"Very well," the first angel said. "Let us be on our way."

All at once the angels lifted off the ground, the sled rising with them. As they rose over the trees, Clara couldn't help but gasp in wonder. Laid out before her was the most magnificent landscape she had ever seen. The snowy woods stretched to a wide glittering river that wound from distant mountain to distant mountain. Gentle hills rolled from the bank on the other side. She could just see the shining white towers of a far-away castle among them.

She turned to look at Nutcracker. "You had to go all the way there to get the toy troops?"

He nodded. "Yes. That's why I was late to the battle. I knew of the mice's plan to attack, and I meant to be there before they arrived. I left as soon as the coast was clear, but the journey took days. It's very lucky that the dolls were there."

"Days?" Clara asked incredulously. "You were only gone for a few hours!"

"Time passes much more quickly in the Land of Sweets, my dear. A few hours in your world is the same thing as a few days here."

She looked around again in amazement. This land was so strange to her. She still couldn't believe it was real.


	5. Divertissement

As they flew over the landscape, Clara peered over the side of the sled. She saw fields of peppermint and sugarcane, orchards of cocoa trees, all farmed by toy men and women. Their villages were made of charming gingerbread houses, the streets paved with pieces of hard candy. Soon, the walls of the magnificent castle were in view. Clara stared, enchanted, at the sparkling, sugar powdered towers that rose up on top of the hill before them. As they flew over the streets, she could see people packed into each and every one, making their way to the heart of the castle. The angles guided their sled to the very middle of the central courtyard, landing in a neat circle around them.

The crowds gathered around in the courtyard cheered as Clara and Nutcracker stepped out of the sled. He looped his arm around her waist and hugged her tightly to his side.

"This will probably get a little overwhelming for you," he whispered to her. "Just try to remember that they are all very excited by the Mouse King's defeat. I will be right here beside you."

She nodded and looked up into his beautiful face. Suddenly, she was very glad she had kept on her makeup. It was bad enough that she was attending a party in only her nightgown, and there was no way she could compare her own face to Nutcracker's smooth, pale skin and gorgeous eyelashes. Riveted by his handsome features, she couldn't make herself look away.

He smiled gently under her gaze. "Ready, my love?" he said, gesturing to the path that had opened up through the crowd. Startled back to reality, she moved his arm so that she could link hers through it.

"Ready."

They both moved through the narrow corridor of people, smiling and waving to as many as they could. The pathway led to the largest doorway Clara had ever seen. It took three men to open each door, pushing them inward to reveal a magnificent glittering hall.

The huge room was painted in the palest pastels and decorated with copious amounts of gold and crystals. On the far side of the room, atop a raised dais, stood two ornate gold thrones. In them sat a woman and a man, both equally dazzling in their beauty. Clara could only guess that they were the queen and king of the kingdom. As she and Nutcracker approached the dais, the man stood, offering his arm to the woman.

"That is the Sugar Plum Fairy and her consort," Nutcracker whispered in Clara's ear. "Her Majesty rules the Land of Sweets." He stopped them just before the steps up to the dais.

With her shimmering violet skirts rustling, the Sugar Plum Fairy stepped daintily down to meet them. Her delicate mouth spread into a smile as she left her consort's side to embrace Nutcracker.

"My dear Nutcracker," she sang, "it is so lovely to see you this way at last. I feared you would remain wooden forever!"

"I would have, if not for Clara," he replied, taking hold of Clara's hand again.

The Sugar Plum Fairy turned her sweet smile to her. "This must be your dearest Clara, then, yes?"

She curtsied deeply. "Your Majesty."

The Sugar Plum Fairy tutted. "I'll have none of that. You saved our dear friend in that battle. The angels told me the whole story!"

Clara couldn't help but blush. "All I did was throw a slipper. The Mouse King would have killed Nutcracker without even giving him a chance to fight."

Nutcracker took both of her hands in his own. "And for that I owe you my life," he said gravely.

The Sugar Plum Fairy hummed happily as Clara's blush deepened. She moved back to her consort and slipped her arm back through his.

"Let in the guests!" she called to the guards at the door.

Once again the impossibly huge doors were pushed open, and people began to pour into the hall. They were all dressed in candy hues, the vivid dresses and suits clashing against each other as the people wearing them mixed and mingled. Clara had never seen such a dizzying riot of color in all her life.

"Representatives from all of the different territories have arranged to come pay their respects," the Sugar Plum Fairy informed them. "Best to stay put for the time being and let them find us."

Nutcracker nodded in agreement. They only had to wait a moment before a page dressed in light purple livery came to announce the first distinguished guest.

"The Spanish chocolatiers," he said, bowing out of the way.

The couple moved forward, bowing and curtsying first to the Sugar Plum Fairy and her consort and then to Nutcracker and Clara. They wore matching outfits of deep red and black that made their tanned brown skin glow. The man held out a large box to Nutcracker.

"It gives us great pleasure to be able to offer these chocolates to our dear _Cascanueces_, our dear Nutcracker," he said. "The whole kingdom would have felt your loss."

"_Gracias_, Gustavo, Aleta," Nutcracker said, graciously accepting the box of chocolates. "It gives _me_ much pleasure to be able to receive them."

Everyone had a laugh at that, and the conversation turned to the cocoa farms that Gustavo and Aleta ran. Clara listened to the sincere questions Nutcracker asked, admiring his genuine interest in the chocolatiers. He seemed to know them and like them well.

Eventually, the page approached again and the couple took their cue to leave. The boy stepped up in their place.

"The Arabian coffee growers," he announced.

Clara couldn't help but stare in wonder at the fine features of the woman who stepped forward. Her elegant maroon hijab accentuated her high cheekbones and her wide eyes sparkled with warmth. She was flanked by two incredibly large men, their muscles visible even through their thick woven robes. As one, they all bowed to The Sugar Plum Fairy and her consort and to Nutcracker and Clara.

The woman produced a small tin from the folds of her kaftan and offered it to Nutcracker.

"Some of our very best coffee to celebrate your success," she said.

"Many thanks, my Lady Senada. It is so lovely to see you again," he responded. Once again he delved into sincere conversation that surprised Clara. She wondered if he knew all of the dignitaries of the Land of Sweets as well as he knew the chocolatiers and the coffee grower. The two men remained silent while Nutcracker spoke to Lady Senada, only coming to whisper in her ear and lead her gently away when the page advanced again. Nutcracker kissed her hand softly and gave her a bright smile as she left.

"The Chinese tea-blenders," the page said, introducing the next guests.

Two tiny women and two spindly men shuffled forward, bowing profusely to everyone in turn. Nutcracker was forced to give the box of chocolates and coffee tin to the toy servant who appeared at his elbow as the tea-blenders each presented their own tiny silver box to him.

"Please accept our gifts of tea, Nutcracker," said one of the men, tucking his hands back inside his long sleeves. "They are four of our rarest blends."

"It is an honor to receive such fine offerings from the Lian family," Nutcracker replied, managing to balance all four of the boxes in his hands as he bowed. The siblings looked suitably impressed.

"Each of the teas strengthens important parts of your _qi_," one of the sisters told him. "The first tea influences your heart, where your_shén_, your consciousness, lives."

"The second will strengthen your lungs, which contain your _po_, your physical soul," the other sister said.

"The third affects your spleen and your _yì_, or your thought," the first brother said.

"And the final tea will influence your kidneys, which house your _zhi_, your will," the last brother finished.

Nutcracker nodded respectfully. "I will be sure to drink them wisely. It would be a shame to waste such a gift."

The siblings exchanged another round of bows with the Sugar Plum Fairy, her consort, and Nutcracker before taking their leave.

When they had gone, the pageboy once again stepped up to introduce the next dignitaries. Before he could open his mouth, though, Nutcracker broke into a wide grin.

"Mikhail! Valentin!" he said, gripping the two young men who had stepped forward in a rough hug. They all laughed, loud and boisterous, and clapped each other on the back.

When they broke apart, the Russian brothers turned to the Sugar Plum Fairy and her consort and bowed solemnly, their hands fisted over their hearts.

"It's so delightful to see you boys." The Sugar Plum Fairy smiled sincerely. "Well, now, don't let me get in the way of your reunion."

Mikhail once again clapped Nutcracker on the shoulder. "It's good to see you, my friend. Didn't I tell you he'd be handsomer than either of us, Val?" he said, nudging his brother with his elbow.

"I was so hoping you'd be wrong," Valentin pretended to pout. "Here I always thought I was the attractive one."

When their laughter had died down, Nutcracker slipped his hand around Clara's waist. "Clara, these are my very good friends, Valentin and Mikhail. Their family is in charge of the peppermint production here in the Land of Sweets."

Each of the brothers stooped to kiss Clara's hand. "You said she was pretty, but I didn't think she'd be this beautiful," Mikhail said with a wink. She blushed.

Nutcracker pulled her away from the young man with mock indignation. "And just when did I give you permission to flirt with my… my…" He trailed off, uncertain what to call her. But before anyone had a chance to say anything else, they were interrupted by a loud and incredibly high-pitched "Yoo-hoo!"

Barreling towards them was a woman who could only be described as enormous. All of her hair was piled up on top of her head, making her already considerable height seem even taller. Her voluminous skirts created a good three-foot barrier around her, pushing the other guests out of the way. She nearly bowled over the Russian brothers before they could jump out of the way.

Ignoring them as well as the Sugar Plum Fairy, she tottled straight up to Nutcracker.

"Oh my dear boy!" she exclaimed, extending her arms as far as she could in an attempt to grasp Nutcracker's hands. He still had to meet her halfway. "How _wonderful_ to see you! The children and I were so worried about you going into battle."

As she spoke, her wide skirts started to rustle. To Clara's amazement, little children began to emerge from under them. Half a dozen toddlers poked their heads out, running out to hug Nutcracker's knees. He smiled at them and patted their heads as they clung to his pant legs. Mikhail coughed pointedly and inclined his head toward the Sugar Plum Fairy, who was looking on somewhat disgruntledly.

The woman put a hand to her mouth. "Oh, dear, I've been terribly rude, haven't I? Please excuse me, Your Majesty. The children and I were just so excited to see Nutcracker, we couldn't wait any longer!"

"No need to worry, Mother Ginger, you are forgiven," she said sweetly.

Mother Ginger smiled broadly and squeezed Nutcracker's hand that she still held.

"Is this your lovely Clara?" she asked, turning her smile onto the young woman. "My, my, isn't she pretty as a candied peach! What do you think, my little polichinelles? Come say hello to Nutcracker's pretty friend!"

Releasing their hold on Nutcracker's knees, the children ran to clutch at Clara's skirts. They murmured tiny hellos as they looked up into her face.

One of the youngest tugged on her sleeve. "Can I touch your hair?" he asked.

"Why, of course you can," Clara said, bending to pick him up. He grasped a single curl in his little hand and began to pet it gently. "What do you think?" she asked.

The boy regarded the lock of hair solemnly for a moment. "It's soft," he said.

This earned a chuckle from Mother Ginger and Nutcracker, and a warm smile from Clara.


	6. Waltz of the Flowers

Just then, a different pageboy came forward to whisper in the Sugar Plum Fairy's ear. Taking her consort's arm, she made her way back up the steps of the dais to stand in front of her throne. She cleared her throat daintily, and the room fell silent almost immediately.

"My dear guests, thank you for being here tonight to celebrate our Nutcracker's victory over the Mouse King. We have several treats for you tonight, starting with a performance by the famous Mirlitons, who have come all the way from the Southern Valleys to join us on this very special occasion."

As she spoke, a dozen young women in bright summer frocks began to gather on the lower stairs beneath the Sugar Plum Fairy's throne. They each carried a simple flute painstakingly carved out of reeds. One of the girls stepped forward to conduct as the others placed their instruments to their lips, and they began to play.

The melody was beautiful, lilting notes tripping up to the ceiling to fill the hall. Guests found themselves breaking into wide smiles as they watch the Mirlitons perform. The young women played with obvious joy, swaying along to the music, their eyes sparkling. When they had finished, the crowd broke into uproarious applause. Nodding and waving in all directions, the girls made their way up the dais to curtsy before the Sugar Plum Fairy and then back down to bend their knees to Nutcracker. He made sure to kiss all of their hands and murmur a sincere thank you to each one. Clara managed tiny curtsies as well as they each passed, with the little boy still balanced on her hip and the other children gathered around her feet. When the young women had all gone, the Sugar Plum Fairy stepped forward again.

"And now, the Dew Drop Fairy and her Flower Maidens would like to present a very special dance that they have prepared for the occasion."

The guests pressed back against the walls as the Maidens began to stream in from a side door, setting up their positions in the middle of the floor. They were all dressed in elaborate ballet costumes, bedecked with enumerable flowers. Many even had little roses or daisies tucked into their toe shoes. As soon as the last girl had reached her spot, they all simultaneously melted into their beginning poses, the back of one hand against their cheeks while their elbows rested on the other, one foot pointed forward.

After a moment of complete silence, the Dew Drop Fairy appeared in the doorway. She drifted serenely to the center of the hall, inclining her head to guests along the way. The whole room seemed transfixed by her wide full lips, her glossy hair done up fantastically with dozens of tiny blooms. When she had made her way to her spot at the very center of her Maidens, she extended her graceful, willowy arms above her head, the cue for the musicians to strike the first note.

The girls danced exquisitely, their steps long and flowing, their turns precisely executed. The movements revolved around the Dew Drop Fairy, who kept her central position as the Flower Maidens danced around her. Clara was stunned at the beauty of the dance, which, though relatively simple, was absolutely in sync. She knew that kind of perfection was difficult to attain. As the song drew to an end, the dancers threw themselves into pirouette after pirouette, falling into their final poses as the last note was played. The hall erupted into thunderous applause while the Maidens curtsied low and ran from the room, leaving the Dew Drop Fairy to pay her respects to the Sugar Plum Fairy.

She gracefully made her way up the steps to the queen of the Land of Sweets and curtsied neatly to her before fluttering down to stand before Nutcracker. As she curtsied in front of him, she looked up from beneath her long, dark lashes.

"How did you enjoy our little dance, Nutcracker?" she said, her voice low and throaty. "We wrote it especially for you."

"It was as spectacular as ever, my lady," he replied. "You outdo yourself every time you perform." As he bent to kiss her hand, she looked over to Clara, a tiny satisfied smile on her lips. Clara felt a hot blush creep up her neck. She could barely keep herself from snatching Nutcracker's hand out of the fairy's.

"She's always had her eye on him, even when he was wooden, but he's never given her the time of day," Valentin leaned in to whisper in her ear. Trying to squash her jealously, she finally bent to place Mother Ginger's little boy on the floor. As she rose, though, she just caught the wink the Dew Drop Fairy was giving Nutcracker as she turned to leave.

Catching sight of the furious expression on Clara's face, Nutcracker drew her closer and kissed her on the forehead.

"I only have eyes for you, my love," he murmured against her temple. "There never was and there never will be another."

Clara sighed against him, even as she heard the awkward shuffling of Valentin and Mikhail and the too-loud exclamation of delight from Mother Ginger behind her. It was only the booming voice of the Sugar Plum Fairy's consort that made her open her eyes.

"I would like to ask Her Highness, the Sugar Plum Fairy, Queen of the Land of Sweets, for the first dance of the night," he announced to the crowd of guests. Turning to his wife, he took her hands in his. "My dearest love, would you do me the honor?"

Blushing delicately, she nodded. As they made their way down to the middle of the floor, the room filled with the ardent sighs of wistful young women. The Sugar Plum Fairy's skirts fanned out behind her as her consort twirled her into the first measures of the song that began to play. They looked at each other with such love that Clara felt as though she was intruding on something private. She looked away, back to Nutcracker, only to realize that he was gazing at her with the same look that she had just seen on the Sugar Plum Fairy and her consort's faces. She could feel her cheeks start to redden.

"Let's see if any of those Mirliton girls can dance. What do you say, brother?" Clara heard Mikhail say behind her. She turned to watch the two young men pull candy canes out their pockets and kneel down to give them to the children. They both gave her friendly winks as they walked away, already laughing jovially between them. Mother Ginger coaxed her children back under her skirts and followed suit, tottling away into the crowd.

When they had gone, Nutcracker extended his hand to Clara.

"May I have this dance?"

"You may."

Taking her by the hand, he led her to the dance floor that was still empty save the Sugar Plum Fairy and her consort. As he pulled her into a waltz, Clara spotted the two Russian brothers step out of the crowd, arm in arm with two of the Mirlitons. More and more of the guests joined them, and soon the hall was full of spinning, whirling couples. Clara laughed with joy as Nutcracker twirled her through the candy-colored mass of people, the hues bleeding into one another.

"Are you happy, my darling?" he asked.

"Oh, _yes_. Yes, of course I am."

She couldn't imagine being any happier than she was right now, held in her Nutcracker's arms, dancing at a magnificent party in the most fantastical land she had ever seen. Nutcracker smiled, sliding his hand from her waist up her back to run his fingers through her hair.

"The boy was right," he grinned. "It is soft."

She stared into his eyes, breathless with the sudden desire to be alone with him.

"I find I'm starting to get a bit tired," she said. The concern in his eyes almost makes her feel guilty, but not quite. "Can we go someplace quiet to sit?"

He nodded. "Of course, my love." Taking her hand again, he led her out of the crowd of dancing couples, through a set of side doors, and into a candlelit hallway. A little ways from them, beneath an exceptionally tall window, was a little plush settee. Looking out the window, Clara was astonished by how dark it had already become. She knew several hours must have past while they were at the party, yet it had felt like such a short time.

Nutcracker guided her to sit next to him on the settee, her leg pressed up against his through the thin cotton of her nightgown. Incredibly, she found that she really was tired. She rested her head on his shoulder as he stroked her hair.

"I've had the most wonderful time tonight, Nutcracker," she murmured. "I wish it didn't have to end."

"I as well, dear heart. Come, rest on me for a while. I'll wake you later to go back to the festivities. The Sugar Plum Fairy's parties are notoriously long."

The rhythm of his fingers in her hair was already making her drowsy. It was all she could do just to nod against his neck. Within a matter of seconds, she found herself drifting off to sleep, his lips whispering comforting words into her hair.


	7. Apotheosis

When Clara awoke, the first thing she noticed was the bright morning light spilling through the window across the room from her. The second thing she noticed was that the window was not where it was supposed to be. She jerked awake fully, finding herself folded into the chair in front of the fireplace in her own house. Abruptly, she began to cry. She refused to believe that her night with Nutcracker had been anything but real. Yet, here she was, normal sized again, sitting in the same exact position as she had been in last night when she found her nutcracker gone.

She looked around desperately for some sign that her trip to the Land of Sweets had been real, that it hadn't been a dream. Her nutcracker was nowhere in sight, the angels were still poised regally on top of their trees, Drosselmeyer's dolls still stood in the corner. Everything was its right size. She dove frantically for the grandfather clock, but the wall behind it was as smooth and unblemished as always. She even felt it, just to be sure.

That's how Frau Stahlbaum found her, kneeling with her arm under the clock, tears streaming down her face.

"Clara!" she exclaimed. "Whatever are you doing down here? What's the matter, darling?"

"My nutcracker … is gone," Clara managed to choke out between her tears.

"Oh, dear, I'm sure it's just been misplaced," her mother tried to soothe her, rubbing circles on her back. "We'll have the servants look for it."

She nodded, trembling, and let Frau Stahlbaum lead her upstairs to her room. Her mother helped take off her now-smudged makeup and start getting her ready for the day. She put on one of her regular day dresses and arranged her hair in its normal simple bun. When she looked presentable once more, both women made their way to the kitchen for breakfast. They hadn't been there for more than five minutes when the doorbell rang.

"Who could be calling at this hour?" her mother said, sounding faintly displeased.

Clara could only manage a listless shrug. She didn't even look up when the butler came into the room.

"Herr Drosselmeyer and his nephew are at the door, madam," he informed Frau Stahlbaum. This at last piqued Clara's interest. Her godfather had never spoken of a nephew, as far as she knew. She followed her mother to the parlor, but stopped dead at the door. All she could do was stare.

Standing in front of her was her Nutcracker, still human, still breathing, still beautiful.

"This is my nephew, Hans-Peter," Clara heard her godfather say.

Unable to contain herself, Clara threw herself into Hans-Peter's arms.

"I thought you were gone!" she cried into his chest. "I thought that – I thought …"

She could feel him press a kiss to the top of her head as he tightened his arms around her. "Never," he said quietly. "I could never leave you. Never."

Not caring that her mother and godfather's eyes were on them, she tilted her head up to capture his lips with her own. They were as soft as she had imagined, and she filled with an insatiable need for more, but she forced herself to break the kiss to look into his sparkling eyes.

"Hans-Peter?" she said incredulously, quirking an eyebrow.

He laughed.


End file.
